Thanks, Nadia.”
God, I had no idea what it was about him, but every time he said my name, it went through me like gasping, shivering sex. And the thanks hit me just about as hard because I had the feeling he didn’t say it often.
Blushing, I whirled to do as I’d suggested. Circle time was wrapping up when I got to Mrs. Trent’s class. Sam was clapping along with the other kids, then he followed instructions politely, piling his rug on top of the others. He spotted me and lit up, as if we were old friends. His openness spoke volumes about his sunny nature. I imagined he was a lively kid, full of energy and boundless curiosity.
“Do I have to go?” he asked, his chin drooping when I opened the door.
“I’m sorry, yeah. Your dad’s waiting for you. But once he fills out the papers, you can come to school with the other kids.”
“Like Daddy goes to work.”
“Exactly like that. And your job will be learning.”
He nodded at me firmly. “It’s a deal.”
My heart quivered at how seriously he was taking this. He put his hand in mine, trustingly, and I led him to the front office, where Ty was already filling out forms. Rather than bother them, I sat down with Sam and we built an awesome block tower in the play area nearby. By the time we finished, they were wrapping up, and Ty came out with his paperwork. From experience, I knew we needed certain medical records and proof of vaccinations, but he could email that stuff later.
“Congratulations,” Mrs. Keller told Sam. “You’re our newest student.”
He grinned at her. “My job is learning.”
“I like your style.” She offered Sam a low five, and he nailed it.
I was itchy, unsure if I should walk them out or go back to the kitchen, and Mrs. K didn’t help by dashing off to answer her cell phone, buzz-ringing away on her desk. For a few seconds, I fidgeted. Pushed out a nervous breath. And that was stupid because I was the one who said we were friends. Friends didn’t make me feel like this, but I couldn’t admit that to Ty.
“He starts on Monday in Mrs. Trent’s class. I’m going to call the parents she gave me for reference, but I don’t expect any problems.” He shifted, eyes on mine.
Heat shimmered up my spine. So completely inappropriate.
“Awesome.”
Then Ty gave me a smile that surpassed his son’s in both sweetness and intensity as he turned for the door. “So...see you tonight.”
That could’ve meant nothing, I told myself. It could’ve meant anything, just a casual comment, like people say “see ya later” when they don’t expect to run into you again for years.
But that didn’t keep me from being excited as I skimmed the fridge message board. Angus had written, Out with Josh, don’t wait up, in red marker. Lauren’s scrawl read, Fine arts department dude is fine, let’s hope he’s interesting, too. Back late! Since we’d both worked full-time over the summer, it seemed like forever since we’d talked.
She’s not avoiding me, right? Nah. That’s silly.
Max studied me as he stood in front of the fridge, devouring a leftover sub. The girls he dated would doubtless find him less charming if they knew he left his underwear in the bathroom and Angus had to yell at him about it, and that he was prone to drinking from the milk carton, then putting it back. But he had a fantastic bod and a brooding, dark-horse stare. In their eyes, that might make up for the rest.
“So what’re you doing?” I asked.
Friday night, I should probably have something social going on, but the first week of school, job and practicum wiped me out.
“Eating.”
“Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”
“I’ll get my bike running if it’s the last thing I do. I won’t have a chance to work on it for a while. Don’t make any plans tomorrow, by the way. The party is most definitely on.”
“Cool. Who’s coming?”
He listed a bunch of mutual friends, people we hung out with in the dorm and then some names I didn’t recognize. Bottom line, at least thirty people would be here. I had mixed feelings about it. At the best of times, I wasn’t a party animal, though I had barfed in the bushes a few times my freshman year. Ironically, on one of those occasions, I hadn’t been drinking at all; instead I’d sucked down too many energy drinks and caffeine pills cramming for midterms. Now I didn’t let myself get more than a buzz on, mostly because I hated hangovers so much. Recovery could kill the whole day.
Max was looking expectant. “Aren’t you gonna tell me how awesome I am?”
I stretched lazily. “Nope. There’s no point. You say it as part of your daily morning affirmation, anyway.”
“Can’t argue with my own mirror.” He smirked.
“Good luck with your bike.”
“Thanks.” He tousled my hair and headed out.
A glance at the clock told it wasn’t remotely late enough to sit on the balcony and expect company, so I worked on coursework for an hour and a half. After that, I lost interest in being virtuous and rummaged through my mom’s care package. She’d maximized value from flat-rate, priority shipping, as I’d also received homemade gingersnaps, a handmade scarf and a poster she thought would look nice on the living room wall.
On a whim, I dug a small basket out of my closet. I’d gotten a bath set in this, and it was light enough to serve. Next I located a ball of yarn, left over from my failed attempts to learn to knit. My mother was so good at it, and she’d tried so hard to teach me, but I never made anything that didn’t look like a cat had killed it. I threaded the string through the straw on four sides, and then let it out, guessing how long it needed to be for Ty to reach it. Finally, I tied the strands off on top, creating a messy sort of handle.
By this time, it was after eight, nearly dark. I cracked the balcony doors for a breeze; it wasn’t hot enough to run the air conditioner, and it would only get cooler from here. Through the sliding glass doors, the last of the sunlight glimmered over the treetops, like a farewell, and I watched until the shadows lengthened completely. As soon as they did, I made a cup of tea, but I was a wild woman and chose orange Ceylon spice instead of the usual infusion. I also took a pack of peanut butter cups from the Mom stash. With the doors open and ears straining, I heard when Ty stepped out.
Smiling, I lined the basket with a paper napkin, then set a tea bag atop it, along with a gingersnap and a peanut butter cup. Maybe I should’ve acted like I wasn’t waiting for him so obviously, but I had never been good at pretending I didn’t want things when I did. So I stepped out onto the balcony, maneuvered around the lounge chair and carefully lowered the basket toward him. He was just staring, as if willing me to appear. Sparks crackled to life inside me.
“What’s this?” he asked, steadying
